


trees are the ambassadors of time

by yele



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 07:17:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4778408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yele/pseuds/yele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>i love cute cuddly lovey-dovey fluff and this is kinda the opposite.</p>
<p>some minimalist angst, post mt weather massacre stuff because why not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	trees are the ambassadors of time

_back in the forest_

_where whispers persuade_

  


1.

No one warns that the aftermath of horror is thick, consuming quiet. A deafening silence falls all around, touching the dead corpses and the bloodied cheeks of those still alive.

 

Mount Weather is no more. And it should be a victory. But it stings and pangs, it justles and aches. It’s bitter. It’s a massacre.

 

It’s only days after that Clarke finally catches her breath. There are people around her, people she knows, that seem similarly broken and lost. People that are her responsibility.

 

Amongst the trees, only old footsteps of the Woods Clan remain. Clarke knows they’ve left. They’ve all followed their Commander. Polis. Somewhere. Not here.

 

It’s only days after that when the rain falls Clarke realizes there’s still blood on her clothes. And blood is responsibility.

 

2.

They use some of the things left behind from the Grounder to make huts and other small structures where they can hide from nature’s ill temperament and find warmth. It’s not a village but a makeshift settlement that will simply have to do.

 

Octavia has long left. Not a surprise. And she wasn’t the only one.

 

Yet those that remain stay together and work together. Mount Weather brought horrible devastation, but for a few it was freedom.

 

Everyone is waiting for Clarke to say something, to guide them. To be a leader. Abby tries to ease the tension away but even she recognizes the one who has made the hard choices, the one who went day after day to carry the bodies left behind and bury them was Clarke. Only ever Clarke.

 

Abby goes to her small tent, stitched together from pieces of torn and worn out cloth.

 

\- Remember when I blamed you about the missile?

 

Clarke looks up. It’s a moot question.

 

\- You were so young. So inexperienced. But you went to the person you thought you could trust, someone who had experience. You did your best, Clarke. I don’t blame you for it -- not any of it. Not that, not this. We are still here and it’s because of you, baby.

 

The tears fall freely, still so silently, still so horribly.

 

3.

Clarke dreams of swimming, of touching tangling river plants, of thousands of fish, of running, of lightning, of screams, of the color green, piercing the dark and waking her up in screams.

 

It’s only nightmares.

It’s only dreams.

It’s never green.

It’s never those eyes.

 

4.

An early morning, the smell of grass.

Things start improving slowly, but surely. These people - Clarke’s people - not the 100, not the 48 or 40 or 30, not the remnants, not the pieces of people from the past but these people here find they can make a life for themselves. A small life, but a fulfilled and peaceful one, close to nature and close to each other. They farm, they fish, and hunt. Learning is slow, but the winters pass.

 

When the first Grounder messenger comes, they are not surprised. Clarke has scouts patrol and protect the area. They seem the lone rider coming. He doesn’t bear much news (The Tri Kru wish to be at peace with the Sky people) and the blonde leader knows what this is. It’s been years, and she knows somewhere across these lands there’s a woman who is still, like her, kept at night by questions without answers.

 

More Grounders come and go, never more than three or four, but now only for trade. The last of the Sky people have always known how to use even the smallest of space in an efficient manner, so with a vast array of land, they have managed to cultivate more plants and herbs, they have succeeded in making bottled medicines, and they have stocked wool, made clothes and bedding. They trade them for Grounder goods, heavier things that take more people or machinery to make, some swords, some wagons for transportation.

 

5.

Deep in the forest, Clarke finds a young fawn with its small antlers lodged between the steady arms of a tree. The animal is frightened when it sees the woman and as if she senses this fear, Clarke stops and squats lowly, blue eyes matching the open honey colored universe in the animal’s gaze. A recognition passes. Clarke sets him free.

 

6.

When a scout comes back from a trip up North with news that the Ice Nation is moving South, Clarke is not surprised. This valley, this forest is a small blessing. It has wood in boundless quantity, there’s enough water and land. And it’s a fantastic entry into the heart of the Grounder’s kingdom. If anyone would want to attack the Grounders, starting from this tiny place would make for the perfect ambush.

 

7.

She knows she shouldn’t but a part of her does. A part of Clarke prays that a messenger from the Woods Clan will come and warn them about the Ice Nation. There’s little way the Tri Kru have not sensed the danger. But no one comes to warn them.

 

It’s good that Clarke has finally learned to trust no one when it comes to protecting her people.

 

8.

It’s long after nightfall when the Ice Nation’s army of deadly assassins stomps over Clarke’s village. They find nothing but a few empty makeshift hunts and the tracks of wagons, people, and deer disappearing into the forest.

 

9.

Clarke is still moving with her people further down South but decided to allow a single scout to run and check on what remains from the village.

 

When the scout returns a week later the news boil through Clarke’s veins. The Ice Nation had started moving closer to the backline of another Grounders village. And they were decimated. All killed.

 

She nods, doesn’t say a word. It’s good that Clarke has finally learned to trust no one when it comes to protecting her people.

 

10.

She negotiates with the Sand people. She knows about them. Elusive, mysterious, isolated. Disinterested in everyone else. Interested only in their peace.

 

And frankly no one wanted their lands. Their lands were sand, rocky mountains, and sun.

 

And then the rumors. The rumors of magic. Of people who could bend their bodies and turn into shadows. Not an enemy one would want.

 

It takes time but the Sand Elders let these lost children enter their lands and live with them. On one condition. No weapon can enter.

 

11.

The years pass. And Clarke feels, finally, she has done well. Her people have found peace. Some have found love, even, in these desolate places. And the Sand people have taken to them well. They’ve seen this group of wanders put much work in building shelter, in growing food, in nurturing the land, in learning the knowledge of the natives.

 

And then of course there’s the Deer Princess. The Sand people respect her as one of their elders.

Clarke had taken the forest deer, unwilling to let them be exposed to the brutal, starved Ice Nation all those years ago, and had led them to the Sand Mountains. And like those who were once knowns as Sky people had changed, so did the deer. They all changed.

 

12.

The figure is a distant dot at first but as she rides closer, Clarke knows it her. And her blue eyes turn yet again to that honey colored love she finds in big stag that she once saved in the forest. Clarke rides out to meet her halfway.

 

13.

Lexa’s grown old. Her face has filled a bit more but her jawbone is still sharp, and her cheeks are still smooth as a river stone. She’s beautiful in the only way someone who has killed and suffered can be beautiful, a sort of hollowed, laughable beauty that cannot be allowed, yet persists.

 

\- Come to Polis with me - she says loud enough to be heard. - Come to Polis with me, and take all your people, too.

 

Clarke reaches out, touches the slope from Lexa’s nose to her cheek, to her ear, to her hair.

 

\- I knew you once - she says finally, as if at last waking up from a dream. - You had my heart.

 

Then Clarke looks to the lands behind her, this home she’s made, and its quiet, lulling hum. She doesn’t need to say it but she does anyway.

 

\- Now my heart is here.

 

They share a few more words and linger around each other for a moment. Lexa leaves.

 

In a moment, Clarke will head back. Soon she’ll return to the sands and mountains, to her friends and her home. But for now she stands still. She stands still, watches the ghostly silhouette of someone she once knew fade away, and feels no pain.

 


End file.
